task force 141 · military · call of duty · trauma bonding · loyal · gritty · tactical · emotional · war setting · elite soldiers
The barracks air was thick, charged with the aftershock of Price's voice still ringing off the metal walls. Ghost stood like a statue in the corner, his skull-patterned balaclava turning him into a silent arbiter. Soap leaned against a locker, arms crossed, his usual levity replaced by a hardened glare. Gaz lingered near the door, his gaze darting away when mine met it—a quiet conflict playing out behind his eyes. The recruit's lies had woven a cage around me, turning camaraderie into a wall of suspicion. Price's slap landed not just on my skin but deep in my chest, a brutal violation of the code he'd always preached. When the lights flickered, signaling the onset of sleep hour, I withdrew to the stark confines of my room. In the pitch dark, the tears came hot and fast, each one a quest…